A Song for Time
by JewelFlame
Summary: Christine Jacobson is a 17 year old highschool ballerina, traveling to the Paris Opera for a ballet field trip. But what she finds there is more frightening and delightful than anything she could ever imagine. The setting of the story starts off in 2006.
1. The Song Begins

A Note to the Managers:

I do not claim ownership to _The Phantom of the Opera_, nor any of its characters. I only claim ownership of the original characters that I create, and any other original things. Everything else is property of Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, Andrew Lloyd Webber, or any other rightful owner. (Yes, I do quote several people throughout the story :))

Also, in a note to the general audience, please know that in my story, the girl Christine's name is not pronounced _Kris-teen_ as you are probably used to, but is pronounced _K'ris-tee-nuh_. I chose this pronunciation because, well, I like it ;). This name also gives you the backbone of the original Christine, but allows you the freedom of some characteristics Book/Movie/Broadway Christine may not have had. At least, that's the way I interpret it.

The setting of the story starts off in 2006. The story is not a sequel or prequel to the novel; rather, the story takes place during the same time period the original story did. (spoiler) "Future"-Christine is really just swept into the body of "Past"-Christine.

On a closing note, I hope you enjoy the show. I do read the reviews, so please, don't hesitate to drop this Opera Ghost a note ;)

Your Ever-Faithful Servant,

J.F.

JewelFlame

**CHAPTER ONE**

"This is where you girls will be sleeping tonight."

Christine peered behind the frail woman. The backstage sleeping area behind the stage of the grand Opera House was all crafted of wood, and had a lovely pine smell to it. The candlelight reflected off of the lightly polished surfaces of the dressers and beds, creating a warm, cozy look. Christine sighed and smiled at the other ballet girls. This was going to be a fun slumber party.

Margaret nudged Christine. "Tina," she whispered, "isn't this cool? I've always wanted to visit the Paris Opera."

Christine smiled at her friend. "So have I," she said. "ever since my Gram read _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra_ to me when I was seven. That's how I got started learning French."

Margaret grinned. "And Madam Antoinette says that you are the best student she ever had. She says it's hard to believe you didn't live in France your whole life."

Christine blushed. Although she only had a year left until she graduated High School, she had grown quite fond of the long hallways and bustle of students. She was the star pupil of the school, and was considered a teacher's pet by many.

Suddenly Christine started, falling forward onto her bed with a muffled _Oomph_. She bounced up and swiveled around, one single sculpted eyebrow raised. Margaret stood behind her, smirking and holding a pillow up to her face.

"Pillow fight!" one of the ballet girls cried, and all chaos broke loose as shrieks and feathers flew through the air.

Christine emerged from the sleeping quarters an hour later, out of breath and pink in the face. She had been able to escape the squawks and screams of the other girls, and slipped out into a dark corridor. Light from the candle in her hand cast eerie shadows upon the wall as she walked, slipping into darkness once she had moved on.

Christine passed many rooms as she wandered, but none interested her. At least, not until she came to a room with "Christine Daae, Soprano" engraved on a gold plaque that hung on the door. The door and plaque were smothered with thick, gray dust. Intrigued, Christine gently pushed open the door. It swung inward with a faint _creeeeeak_.

It was a dressing room. Christine surveyed the dusty surroundings, her eyes finally resting on a grand mirror in the back of the room. She carefully stepped forward, maneuvering around the sheet-covered chairs. Her reflection in the mirror was distorted and foggy, so she carefully brushed away the dust upon the glass. She gasped. Who was that face in the mirror? It was not herself. Why, sure, the young woman staring back in the mirror still had the long, curly hair and big doe eyes Christine had, but her mouth was a bit smaller and turned up in a shy smile. Christine's clothes were different, too; gone were her burgundy silk pajamas. Instead, a lovely white lace evening gown was draped over her body. The ivory folds cascaded down to her feet, where white slippers had magically appeared.

Suddenly, Christine's candle flickered and lost its light. Her dress fluttered about her feet, tugging at her ankles. Christine's eyes widened as a divine voice sang out from above:

"Holy angel, in Heaven blessed… my spirit longs with thee to rest!"

Christine shrieked as a strong, gloved hand sprung from the mirror and seized her wrist, pulling her through the mirror and into the darkness beyond.


	2. Arriving

To the Managers and Audience:

I do not claim ownership to _The Phantom of the Opera_. Just the characters and other stuff I create.

Some quick information on my character Christine Jacobson:  
-- Grandparents lived in France, although she and her parents were born in England  
-- Speaks fluent French and English, some Latin (her parents are scholars and teachers)  
-- 17 years old  
-- About 5'7" tall  
-- Brown hair, brown eyes, slim frame, petite  
-- Ballerina, though she does have a talent for singing  
-- Very smart, sometimes sarcastic

Expect more short character bios as the story progresses. : ) I will try to update every few days, but I may only update once a week.

Please read and review!

Your Humble Servant,

J.F.

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

_**Christine**_

Christine tried to yell, to scream, to make any noise that would summon help, but another gloved hand was quickly placed over her mouth. Only muffled yelps escaped, lost in the leather of the glove. She squirmed and kicked at whoever it was dragging her along, but the figure's grip only tightened. Christine felt a small prick in the side of her gown, and immediately caved in and plummeted into a dark, foggy sleep.

* * *

Christine was slowly drawn from her slumber by a faint, beautiful melody. As she slowly regained consciousness, she recognized the music to be Beethoven's _Bagatelle in A minor.# _Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gazed around at the strange place she had been taken to. The room was a masterwork of architecture, with a beautiful slanted ceiling. Across the top of the room stretched glossy, polished wood beams, reflecting the warm light of candles throughout the suite. A large mirror and vanity table was nestled in a corner beside a large, soft-looking bed, and a bouquet of roses rested on the bedside table. Christine slowly sat up on the sofa she had been placed on, rubbing her aching side and legs. This room gave her a very strange feeling; a mixture of thrill, curiosity and a side of panic. She walked over to the bed and noticed a note lying on top of the roses. Intrigued, she opened it. 

_My Dear Christine,  
_(it read)  
_You are resting in the Fantasia Suite, one of my greatest and most beautiful pieces of architecture. If you are curious about what lays beyond the room, go ahead and take a look. The door _(which Christine had noted the room was lacking)_ resides inside the large oak armoire to your left. If you hear piano, violin or organ music playing _(which she did)_, it means that I am in the main room. Follow the music and you will find me. _

_Always,  
__Erik  
__The Opera Ghost _

The note fell to Christine's feet, leaving her hand trembling in the air. The Opera Ghost? The Phantom of the Opera? Le Fantôme de l'Opéra? Like in the books and movies? Christine felt faint. This couldn't be happening. She gave a crazed laugh. How could it be possible? People didn't just walk into the past. The year must be in the 1870s now. The very notion of it was insane. Impossible. She was probably just asleep, with the other girls in the sleeping quarters. Ohh, Christine felt dizzy. Very dizzy. She collapsed onto the bed and sunk into the feathers.

**

* * *

__****Erik**

Erik's fingers delicately pressed against the grand piano's ivory keys, creating the music he hoped Christine would waken to. Beethoven's _Bagatelle in A minor._ Already he could feel hairs pricking up on the back of his neck. This soft, airy music was not his type at all. He would much rather play something a bit more intense, passionate; something to fit his mood. He wanted to keep working on his own bit of music, _Don Juan Triumphant_, but he didn't want the girl's first reaction when waking up to be total fear. So, he sighed and kept playing.

* * *

_**Christine**_

Christine groaned and raised her head. She looked at the grandfather clock opposite of her. Only five minutes had passed, but she felt a bit better. She sighed and stood up. She didn't want to believe that she had been swept into the past, into the body of this girl – Christine Daae – but she really had no choice. What other way was there to explain her sudden change of appearance and clothes? A thin smile crept on to her lips. _The Phantom of the Opera_ was her favorite book of all time, and Erik her favorite character. However, for as much as she loved _Le Fantôme_, there was one thing she loathed about the story: the ending. Christine broke out into a grin. She could have some fun with this, and change her Erik's ending to be a happy one.

_TO BE CONTINUED  
__- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - _

_# Beethoven's Bagatelle in A Minor, or "Für Elise" as it is fondly known by many, is one of my favorite pieces of classical music. You have probably heard it before; it is well-known throughout the world. If you own the game Dance Dance Revolution Extreme 2, you can hear it in the song "Speed Over Beethoven." Otherwise, you can search Google with "listen Beethoven Für Elise Bagatelle Minor" and it will return some results : ) _


	3. Discovery

_A Note to the Audience: _

_Since someone inquired about who Erik was based on, I thought I should give a brief character profile :) _

_-- FULL mask, he truly is disfigured - think Kay rather than Webber (I know, I can hear all GB fans groaning)  
-- However, he does have Gerry-Butler-Phantom's gold-green eyes. They would be rather mysterious underneath the full mask, no? ;)  
-- Mostly Kay's version of Erik, as far as personality goes  
-- I lowered his age from 50-60+ (in the books) to 37 (20 years older than Christineh).  
-- For his singing voice, imagine Michael Crawford's version of O Holy Night. Not Phantom. I don't like MC's version of Phantom, but his O Holy Night is simply spine-tingling.  
-- For his talking voice, imagine Ralph Fiennes. If you've seen Harry Potter 4, he plays Voldemort. Please read & review! Sorry this chappie took so long; Christmas break ended for me and I didn't have time to write:P _

_Your Most Faithful Servant,  
J.F._

**CHAPTER THREE**

_**Christine** (which, remember, is pronounced like Christineh. She may be in Christine Daae's body, but she is still Christine Jacobson)_

Christine tiptoed to the wardrobe where Erik had said the door was located. She carefully pried it open and slipped through the many luxurious dresses until she felt a cold, brass knob. She turned it and slipped through the opening, closing it silently behind her. She was surprised in the change of atmosphere. While her room had been warm, bright, and comforting, this hallway was cold, dark, and foreboding. The very walls seemed to pulse with passion and anger. The sight was almost an oxymoron, for very nearby Christine could still hear the tinkling melody of Beethoven. The music was coming from behind two large, grand oak doors. She pushed them open and they opened without a sound.

**_Erik_**

Erik could hear Christine enter. He almost froze from nervousness, but he kept his fingers steady and continued pressing his fingers against the keys. He wondered what this future girl would think of 1870. It had been he who had brought Miss Jacobson into the past, you know. Erik was talented with tinkering with time.

**_Christine_**

There at the piano sat the man who was making the music. Christine could only assume it was Erik; she could only see his back. He was cloaked entirely in a midnight black, and his slick, dark hair glistened. She timidly stepped closer to him, holding the note she had found on top of the roses clutched in her hand. She stopped about a meter away from the infamous Phantom and looked around at the room. The walls were filled with bookshelves and books, and in the center of the wall loomed a great fireplace. A quiet fire crackled and danced in it, the flames' tips tainted blue. A large sofa and chairs rested facing it. The room had an eerie, dark feel to it; but although it was not cheerful it was not as ominous as the sinister hallway.

The music faded and Christine caught her breath.

"Good evening, Christineh." Christine's eyes widened. No one ever pronounced her name correctly on the first time. She wondered how he knew.

"Good evening," Christine replied, horrified at how shaky her voice was. She cleared her throat.

Erik turned to face her. She saw that a full, black mask shadowed his face, and his piercing green eyes showed a deep intelligence she had never seen in anyone before. Erik's lips turned up in a smile.

"I hope you find your room satisfactory." He stated, staring into her eyes. Christine was breathless.

"Y... yes, sir. I thank you very much for your hospitality." Erik sighed and gave a small, sad smile. He knew Christine could not stay for long; time could only remain frozen in the future for so long. Already he knew he would miss her.

"Come, sit." He slid over on the bench. Christine cautiously sat. "How is your singing voice?" The man inquired. Christine was surprised. She was known for her dancing, not her singing.

"Fair," she replied, already knowing what was to come next.

"I would like you to sing for me..."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry to cut you off right there! I'm being kicked off the computer... expect more soon:)_


	4. Confusion and Fury

**_Christine_**

Christine sang scales and sweet melodies for over an hour before Erik finally signaled for her to stop.

"You have a fine voice," he said, turning to her. "But it could use a little work."

Christine blushed. Although she knew that it was an incredible honor to have such a musical genius like Erik say that she had a 'fine voice,' she felt embarrassed and disappointed with herself. She jerked out of her own thoughts when Erik spoke again.

"Would you like to stay here for some time while I tutor you?" His green eyes stared, almost pleadingly, up into Christine's. Christine desperately wanted to stay, but she knew that she must return to her own time, somehow, before it was too late.

"Well... I would like to..." she murmured, "but..."

"Ah. I know." Erik stood and Christine followed his lead. "You know you must return to your family in the future." Christine was baffled. How did he know about that? Erik continued, answering her question. "I am one of the few exceptional magicians in the country that possesses true, rare magical power. So, I guess you could say I am some sort of Wizard." He laughed. "Although I much rather prefer the title of magician. Anyway, I brought you back here. Into 1870. In the meanwhile, I can keep time frozen in the future for up to six months." He smiled. "Is that satisfactory?"

Christine gasped. "Oh, yes! I would love to stay!" and she flung herself into Erik's arms, much to his surprise and confusement. Stunned, he awkwardly patted her back in return. Christine broke the embrace. "But... can you go into the future? I know if I could time-travel, I would like to see a glimpse of what lies ahead."

Erik sighed. "It doesn't work that way. I don't know why..." he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm trying to figure it out." And with that, he walked quickly towards the door, his long black cape billowing out behind him. "The evening meal is found in the kitchen," he called back, still walking. "First door to your left in the hallway. I hope you don't mind that I won't be joining you. I am not like normal men; I feel no need to eat on a daily basis. Please do not seek me out. I do not wish to be disturbed. Good day to you, Madamoiselle." And with one fluid movement, he opened the two grand doors and shut them swiftly again behind him after he exited the room.

Christine raised her eyebrows, feeling a little uncomfortable. She didn't exactly like the idea of staying in this gloomy place all by herself, much less not knowing when Erik would make his next appearance. Christine gave a long sigh, and then walked the long length of the room to the doors. She shuddered as she closed herself out into the sinister hallway, and quickly hurried to the first door on the left -- where Erik had said her dinner awaited her.

_**Erik**_

After storming out of the music room, Erik raced down to his bedroom, deep underneath the hallway and other rooms. He cursed himself for being so quick to anger. He had meant for Christine to feel welcome here; he did not want to scare her away like that! But he just could not control his temper. His tinkering with time was one of his many frustrations; as much as he tried, he could not seem to be able to throw himself into the future. Christine had been his first attempt at bringing a person into the past, as well. With this motivation, Erik was sure that the discovery for going into the future was due to come soon. However, one terrifying thought occured to him... if he was not able to send himself into the future... would he be able to return Christine to her home in 2006?

Another wave of self-fury engulfed him, and he ripped open the door to his bedroom and flung himself onto his knees in front of the fireplace, tears of frustration brimming at the edge of his eyes. He was determined to return the poor girl back to her home after the six months had passed; the horror of accidentally trapping her in the past would tear him apart.

He gazed around in anger at his bedroom. Dark gauzes of black and blood-red were streamed across the room, and the looming fireplace had a silently crackling fire dancing deep within it. His bed was a large circle; draped across it were sheets of black silk. The room had a haunting, gothic feel to it... but it comforted Erik. His breathing slowed and his head cleared. He must return to Christine and apologize... tomorrow.

It could wait.

_A/N - Hoped you like it! More to come soon, when I have time to write_


End file.
